


Christmas comes in June

by schrodingurl



Series: Chistmas comes in June [1]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, M/M, and leckie is too slow at realizing things, hoosier just needs to get it out of his system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11038806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrodingurl/pseuds/schrodingurl
Summary: Things are weird with Hoosier after Leckie makes it back from his stay at the hospital.





	Christmas comes in June

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd, so please forgive any grammar mistakes :S
> 
> \---
> 
> this is a work of fiction solely based on the TV series, no disrespect intended to the real veterans.

Christmas came in June in the South Pacific, that was a given. What Leckie hadn’t anticipated was that it would last so little.

After his stay at the hospital, he barely had a day of catching up, telling stories, joking about the boots and playing cards.

 

The next morning they were naive enough to try and keep it going, but they wouldn’t be so lucky. Leckie could barely enjoy the second glass of that concoction his friends had deemed good enough to drink - poison in disguise, that was - when the fun run out their tent.

Hoosier was lying in his bed, already halfway through his magazine, Chuckler re-reading his comic, when they got the notice. The Captain of the company was to brief them about next day’s operation. They were to land in some small island and get ready to take a Japanese airfield. By the sound of it, it wasn’t gonna be a piece of cake.

Leckie knew the instructions would be repeated over and over during the day, and even the next morning- so he decided to study the faces of those in front of him. He saw the truth of the matter, just like the rest of the old timers did. He couldn’t help but spare a scoff for the boots, who couldn’t understand the secret code written in the veteran’s faces. Shit was really going down.

 

After they were dismissed, Leckie, Chuckler and Runner decided to walk to the nearest hill. Sid Phillips was leaving. He was going home. They saw the boat getting smaller and smaller, cracked a few jokes, chain smoking and sending his best wishes to that kid who had turned eighteen in the middle of the jungle, carrying a weapon and a sweaty brow.

Leckie smiled to himself, not willing to share the memory of Hoosier giving the kid a golden grenade as a birthday gift.

He missed the company of the blue eyed bastard, even if his friend would only speak in the shortest sentences and snarky comments. He was probably finishing his new reading material, maybe taking a nap.

 

Soon enough the day was almost gone, the sky a nice shade of orange and purple. When they made it to the canteen they spotted Hoosier, who barely spared them a look and mumbled something about _getting some fucking sleep_. Chuckler and Runner paid him no mind and went to get their food, but Leckie had a feeling something was off.

 There would be no movie that night. The tension was almost a fog in the air, although in reality it was just that fucking tropical suffocating heat.

 

Once in their tent, Runner was asleep fast, and after a while, it was completely dark. Leckie knew full well he wasn’t getting a full night of sleep, and truth be told, he did feel a little guilty about his week sleeping in a real bed.

He stood up and paced around his makeshift library, but nothing appealed to him. Who was he kidding. There was nothing there that would help him in such a time.

So he did the only other thing he could think of. Sat down on his bed, lit a smoke and took pen and paper.

 

_Dear Vera_

 

Nothing. There was nothing. This was new.

He smoked his cigarette and threw it away, still staring at the blank piece of paper.

He scratched the name, turning it into a big black blotch.

 

_Dear whoever reads this_

_How **fucked** are we now? _

 

The words came to him with a now very eerie happy birthday tune.

Fantastic, yet another thing the war had ruined for him.

 

He put on his boots and walked out of his tent. It was strangely quiet. Disconcerting, but somehow peaceful. He decided to walk around, see if anybody else was wondering and lost, although he wasn’t sure about wanting any real conversation.

Once he arrived to the shore, he felt lucky. A soft breeze graced his face, and he took off his boots to feel the soft sand under his feet. That was the most spiritual ritual he could bare, just feeling the warmth and breathing the fresh breeze. For all the sick jokes they had shared about the place, if you had it in you to block any sensible thought, it was quite the paradise. If only for half a second, and could he really ask for more?

 

He wasn’t sure how much time he spent there, but after a while he felt contempt enough, so he returned to camp.

Someone had had the same idea and was walking towards the beach. It wasn’t until the shadow stopped and turned on its heels that he recognized it as Hoosier.

Leckie stopped himself just in time to shout his name, not wanting to disrupt the perfect silence of the night, and jogged towards him, boots still in his hand.

“Can’t sleep? Doesn’t seem like you” he said catching up to him, embarrassingly almost out of breath. That stay at the hospital had definitely taken a toll.

 Hoosier not only ignored him, but he started walking faster. He was shirtless, as per usual, the clink of his dog tags making his change of pace all that more obvious.

“Hoosier?” Leckie called, his smile fading.

“Leave me alone” he barked, a little too loud for Leckie’s liking.

 He gave it another try, running and stopping in front of Hoosier, blocking his way.

 “What the hell is the matter with you?” Leckie snapped, trying to keep his tone under control.

 “Nothin’” and just like that, Hoosier turned around, ready to leave.

 

_Well, fuck it, not tonight._

Leckie took one, two, three long steps towards him, grabbed his arm and pushed him into the tent right next to them. It was empty, and it appeared it had been for quite a while.

“What the fuck, Robert, keep your hands to yourself!” he hissed.

 

_Why is he so angry?_

And why had it hurt so much when he’d called him by his given name?

Hoosier tried to walk past Leckie, but he was already committed to get an answer, so to hell with it.

 

“No.” Leckie tried to maintain a cool facade, choosing to ignore the way Hoosier retreated from his touch when he stopped him with a hand on his chest after he tried to cross through the door.

 Leckie stared at him, waiting. Just waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Trying not to lose his nerve. Talking to Hoosier had always been quite the achievement. It was almost like letting words out was physically painful for the man. But dammit, this time he was going to get an answer out of him.

 Hoosier had turned his back to him. Leckie could only see the side of his jaw, tensing, and he knew the blond man was chewing his words and swallowing them back down, as he always did.

 “Hoosier…” Leckie wasn’t sure what was it he wanted to ask, but he was sure his time was running out fast.

 “Had to come back, did ya?” he muttered.

_What?_

Leckie was perplexed. Out of all the scenarios, all the ways the conversation could go, all the shitty explanations for Hoosier’s behavior he’d run through his head, that was not in the list.

 

“Come back? From the hospital? Dammit, Hoosier, look at me!” he said, turning Hoosier around, feeling his arm tense under his touch.

 “You didn’t have any fucking problem yesterday, the hell got into you now?”

 Hoosier tried to get out of Leckie’s reach, but he wouldn’t let go.

 He was… _sad_. That was it - he was genuinely sad, almost guilty, and still refused to look Leckie in the eye.

 He took a breath, and let it out. Twice. Like he was gathering the strength to make his point.

 

“You weren’t supposed to come back- for... _this_ ” he grumbled, taking a step back.

Leckie couldn’t help but notice how he rubbed his own arm, like his touch had burned him, right before reaching for his cigarettes. Leckie knew him well enough to know that that was his go to move whenever he was anxious. Most of the times he wouldn’t even enjoy the smoke, he just needed something to fiddle with between his fingers, between his lips.

Hoosier found it himself to finally look back, and his eyes were dark blue. So dark they didn’t even seem like the same eyes that had greeted Leckie the morning before, a bright smile to match.

 “For this. What is this, may I ask?” he mumbled, and he was oh so lost.

 The younger man smiled, finally, in that arrogant cocky way of his. But it wasn’t really a smile - Leckie used to think of it more as a self deprecating grimace. Some strange contortion Hoosier’s face made when he deemed himself too miserable after getting some dark unspoken joke no one else could hear.

 “You heard the captain - Tomorrow we’re going on a suicide mission and it’s just… we’re tired - we’re too fucking tired” he just whispered that last part. Hadn’t they been alone in the middle of a quiet night, Leckie might have missed it.

 

He kept on smoking, not able to hold Leckie’s gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.

After the second cigarette was lit, it was clear the situation had changed. Now Hoosier was the one comfortably enjoying Leckie’s confusion, while the older man could not for the life of him process the words he just heard.

 Leckie had grown accustomed to think about death as something that was coming. It was somewhat inevitable..his visit to the hospital.only helped him realize that death took many forms, not just the one of a rotting corpse. But what he knew for a fact was that he was not alone in that sorrowful nightmare. And to stand there, being told he didn’t belong-

 Something in him knew it didn’t make sense. He knew he should understand it. Probably even share the feeling, maybe even reciprocate it by wishing his friends could leave that shithole before all went to hell.

But he was just completely and utterly furious.

 

_You don’t understand how I felt back there. I won’t be able to live with myself if I just leave you here to fight on your own. We are together in this mess, dammit. We’ve been through too much for me to just bail. I care about you. All of you. I care about **you**._

 

But Leckie was suddenly exhausted, and bad habits stick fast, so none of those words made it out of his mouth. Before he could process what he was doing, his fist was already in the air and Hoosier was lying on the floor with a bloody nose. It wasn’t until the pain in his hand registered that he realized he’d just punched his best friend without a word.

It was just half a second. Leckie stood there like a sculpture, and Hoosier was all big eyes and fast breathing. It would have been almost comical at any other given moment.

 Leckie opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to spill a word, trying to look for an excuse or an explanation. He couldn’t articulate the tiniest thought.

 Being impressively fast, Hoosier jumped on him, pinning him down by his shoulders, caging him between his knees.

 Leckie expected him to reciprocate the punch, but willed himself to keep his eyes open.

Hoosier just remained still, staring at him. He smelled of cigarettes and blood. It almost felt unreal until a drop of blood fell on Leckie’s cheek. Then reality dawned on him.

 

“I don’t… I… I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he mumbled.

 “Shut the fuck up, Leckie” he answered, way too calm, way too sure.

 Leckie couldn’t move a muscle, and Hoosier’s weight was starting to make him dizzy, he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t a bad feeling, though.

 Something was about to happen, Leckie was sure of that. Hoosier moved his hand, slowly but steady, and wiped the little drop of his blood with a thumb. It was tender and extremely unlike him. He wasn’t looking Leckie in the eye, only stared at the little stain his blood had left.

 He seemed to realize something, and taking a sharp breath, stood up just as fast as he’d jumped him.

 Hoosier didn’t bother to tend to his nose or wipe the dust of his pants. He didn’t spare a second look back. He just left, Leckie still lying on the floor, uncertain about the whole situation.

 He gave himself a moment to lie on the floor, and then gathered his remaining strength, if only to sit up. He could still feel his legs caged by Hoosier. His boots were on the floor next to him, he couldn’t remember when he’d dropped them.

 

Staring at the dark emptiness of the tent, he flexed his hand, not really worried about it, just a reflex.

Suddenly, all of this memories started running through his head. It was like he’d been the one who’d received the punch.

 

The day he left for the hospital. He barely remembered anything from the trip. He was in his tent, people came and talked to him. The Doc, Chuckler and Runner at some point.They’d carried him to the boat, since he could barely stand. He’d seen Hoosier watching from a distance. For some reason he couldn’t get the whole picture. Just his dog tags dangling from his neck, shining with the sunlight. A bunch of cigarette butts at his feet. His blue eyes too concerned - he shouldn't have been that concerned.

 

He remembered that same morning. Runner wrapped in his blanket, fighting a fever. Hoosier had arrived with news of the lottery. He flashed a unique smile when he announced the prize, and yet he didn’t really seemed to care about it. Hoosier had never said anything about going home. Not a word.

 Maybe he would have been genuinely happy if one of his friends had actually got to go home.

 Had he really noticed how miserable Leckie was? How he’d slowly lost about every hope of ever leaving those islands in one piece? Had he noticed how his mind was injured in a way his body wasn’t?

Surely he hadn’t.

 

And yet he had.

 

Leckie stood up, lost in his thoughts, and jumped startled when he turned around and found Hoosier standing in the doorway.

The bleeding had stopped, and his nose was slightly red but not swollen. Drips of almost dried blood painted his chin and his chest.

 Guilt was worst for Leckie than any punch he might have received.

 What was he doing? Just standing there, eyes fixated on his face, Leckie could practically hear his mind running.

 

He stepped towards him determined, and Leckie closed his eyes expecting to fall on the floor again. But he didn’t.

 

He felt Hoosier’s right hand grasping the nape of his neck, so tight it almost hurt. His other hand grabbed his wrist at his side, thumb pressing on his pulse point.

 He could smell his warm breath, he was so close. Hoosier didn’t speak, didn’t move. Just waited for Leckie to open his eyes again.

 

When he did, he got lost in the intensity of it all.

_Fuck, his eyes are so blue. Why are they so blue?_

 

Hoosier smirked and pressed his lips to Leckie’s. It was soft and wet, and oh so sweet. But his eyes never left him. Leckie didn’t move - couldn’t move - and just stood there tasting the kiss.

Once Hoosier was satisfied he closed his eyes and moved back, his hand still grasping Leckie’s nape, if slightly softer.

 

Leckie panicked. It was too much. It was too late. He was too lost to handle what had just happened.

Pushing Hoosier out of the way, he grabbed his boots and jogged towards his tent.

 

Runner was still asleep. Leckie sat down on his bed, mindlessly running his tongue over his lips. He was ashamed of his reaction. He shouldn’t have run. What was wrong with him?

He didn’t care about what was supposed to be right or wrong. He didn’t care about God anymore, he didn’t care about the people back home.

He’d enjoyed that kiss, more than he could have anticipated. By far. Despite the turn of events, he still wasn’t sure about what was going on.

 

He listened for footsteps, foolishly waiting for Hoosier to arrive and - well, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting would happen next.

 

But of course, he didn’t. Leckie barely got a few minutes of sleep before the sun came up and Runner was waking him up.

 

Chuckler and Hoosier were already having breakfast when Leckie and Runner joined them. They sat down, and it wasn’t really a surprise to anybody when silence took over the table.

Leckie kept glancing towards Hoosier, expecting him to be mad, or maybe embarrassed. He needed to talk to him, he needed to explain.

 

But Hoosier eyed him with curiosity, and just shoot him a sly smirk. He appeared pleased with himself. Could it be? Maybe in some twisted way he was just messing with him? It hadn’t felt that way. Perhaps he was pleased to get whatever it was out of his system.

 

When they stood up to gather their weapons and bags, Hoosier walked next to him, like nothing had happened. It was certainly not was Leckie expected, but then again, Hoosier kept surprising him these days.

"You good, Lucky?" he said, tapping his shoulder, right before walking to his tent. He wasn't really expecting an answer, and Leckie's lack of words seemed to somehow amuse him.

 

The pressure of the day was starting to take a toll on the troops. Nobody had it in them to comment on anything as they walked into the boats.

 Then the adrenaline took care of the rest. The sound of shelling far away, the planes flying over them, what was clearly the song of war wouldn’t let anyone think about anything but surviving.

 

Getting off the boats on the beach was an odyssey. There were plenty of casualties laying around already, the screams and gun shots deafening. Leckie was blocked. He fell into the sand and could barely stand up. He felt Hoosier’s hands on him, helping him up, but he couldn’t have it...

Pushing him away, yelling to leave him alone, he run towards the tree line.

 

When he got there it felt slightly safe. How wrong he was, he was about to find out.

 

Little by little, they advanced, trying to get to a safe point.

Hoosier was just in front of him, moving in zigzag, like he’d done a hundred times.

 

A blast of dust and sand blinded Leckie. He could barely breath, and had to stop to register what was in front of him.

Hoosier was lying in the ground, face down, trying to crawl out of a hole that hadn’t been there five seconds ago.

 

Leckie’s blood froze. Minutes later he’d be surprised at how quickly he managed to react.

He jumped next to Hoosier, his leg bleeding too much. Way too much.

 

“Dropped my fucking weapon…” he mumbled.

 

Leckie was frantic, trying to stop the bleeding to no avail.

 

“Bill! Corpsman! Bill, it’s gonna be fine!” he wasn’t sure about anything he was saying. He only knew Hoosier couldn’t die. Bill couldn’t die. Not there. Not like that. Not after that last night.

 

When the medics arrived Hoosier was almost out. For a moment Leckie thought he’d slipped away, until he opened his eyes, only to barely look at him, and murmured _"sorry"._

And just like that they took him away.

 

 ** _Sorry_**. He’d say sorry. If those were to be his last words, Leckie might as well get shot at that moment.

 

But despite the nickname and his surviving through all that hell, he wasn’t really lucky. He certainly didn’t feel it.

 

Bill was gone, maybe dead, and he was still there. He’d never felt so alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> first work posted here, first time writing loosier.  
> I've been thinking about writing for these two for a while.  
> Next part will probably be post war.  
> Let me know what you think <3


End file.
